


The Demon's Daughter

by InterstellarVagabond



Series: Raising Hell [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, an apology for part one really, dad crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: Five years ago, Crowley stole a human girl from an abusive father. What was supposed to be a temporary arrangement has turned into five years of bedtimes, breakfasts, and birthdays. He even lets her help with demonic assignments, and wishes he could show her the stars he made up close.





	The Demon's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I killed her have some fluff okay? asldfdlkjasd;lfdlk
> 
> I'm weak for found family, for questionable role models, and little girls who cause trouble

  
  


Crowley had fallen asleep slumped over his desk, head in his arms, and this was unfortunate because it made him an easy target. 

While he slept he didn't notice the figure creeping closer, a wicked grin on their face, until they were already upon him.

"Wake up!" Phoebe screeched as she leapt onto Crowley's back. The demon, thousands of years old serpent of Eden who had seen the birth of humanity and brought about their expulsion from the garden, was helplessly startled into awakening and forced to clumsily and quickly grab his daughter before her tackle sent them both falling to the ground.

"Nngh," he said eloquently, as Phoebe smirked at him. "Why? Why this? All the time?"

He set Phoebe down, and stretched painfully considering the merits of demonically convincing his body it hadn't slept bent in half all night. 

"Are we going to work today?" Phoebe asked, sparing Crowley no time to wake up before the questions began.

"You know, someday you're going to grow up," Crowley said, "and get a job, and you'll be less eager about it."

"But  _ are we _ ?"

"Yes, we are." Crowley ruffled her hair, making sure it ended up a tangled mess in front of her face blinding her and smirking at her protests. "Bossy."

"Lazy!" She retorted.

"Small!" Crowley shot back.

"Gangly!" She shouted with a grin.

"Human!"

"Snake!"

Crowley gave a dramatic hiss, displaying his more serpentine features before grabbing his squealing daughter and tossing her over one shoulder.

"Alright, well I'm clearly having rude little girl for breakfast, what about you?" He asked, and Phoebe blew a raspberry close to his ear.

"Pancakes," she said seriously.

"Oh, pancakes. Right away, your highness." Crowley bowed, using the sarcastic gesture to deposit Phoebe gently onto the floor. 

"So," Phoebe said, following Crowley down the crowded street. "My birthday is in a few days."

"Another one? Didn't you just have one of those last year?" Crowley asked, grinning when he got a shove for his jokes.

" _ Anyway _ ," she continued enunciating the word. "I thought this year my gift could be that we go flying."

"Gotta be this tall for wings, sweetheart," Crowley said, gesturing a bit above her head. "Sixteen. We'll do it for your sixteenth."

"Twelve is almost thirteen," she said. "And thirteen is almost sixteen and if you wait till I'm sixteen you might throw out your back carrying me anyway."

"That math doesn't add up at all, but what do I know? I'm apparently just a doddering old man."

"Please?" Phoebe begged.

"We'll see," Crowley said. "Now hush up, I thought you wanted to work today."

"I do!" Phoebe said. "What are we doing today?"

"You see that gentleman over there getting into a carriage?" Crowley asked, lowering himself down to put a hand on her shoulder and point over towards the mark. "We have to make sure he has a really bad day."

"That's it?" Phoebe asked, a little disappointed.

"What? You got a problem?" Crowley asked.

"Well it's… not exactly craftsmanship," she said. "You usually come up with such big fun things."

"Yeah, well sometimes Hell has orders that aren't as big and fun," Crowley said. "And they want this guy pissed off. Supposedly gonna start some Satanic order or something I dunno I dozed off. Point is, we make him angry as sin, and he will. You up to it?"

"Can we do 'hit and run'?" Phoebe asked excitedly.

"You have a plan?" Crowley asked.

"I think so," she said. "You just keep him distracted and I'll do the hard part."

"Pfft. Alright, sweetheart." Crowley couldn't help but let her have the first go at it. She was a natural. "Well, looks like you better get started," he said, pointing to the carriage that was already on its way.

Phoebe nodded, and then took off in the direction of the horse's hooves.

Crowley didn't  _ actually _ let her get trampled, what kind of demonic father would he be if he didn't let his daughter play in the street under magical protection?

"Oh, good lord!" The driver shouted, staring down in a panic at the little girl he was certain he'd just killed.

"No!" Crowley wailed dramatically, running out towards his daughter and lifting her into his arms. "Oh, my darling Elizabeth, taken before her time! Dead in agony!"

"Laying it on a little thick," Phoebe whispered.

"Hush," he whispered back.

"What's going on out here?"

Crowley dropped Phoebe back down, turning to face their mark with the weapon humanity feared most: unrestrained public displays of emotion.

"Your driver, has just killed my daughter!"

"What?"

As Crowley started with the theatrics, Phoebe opened an eye to see if the coast was clear. Everyone seemed to be looking at Crowley, so she quickly scampered over to the other side of the carriage.

Usually, there was something they left behind worth taking, something that would upset the mark to lose, and if not she could always drive off with the carriage, that would be fun.

As Phoebe opened the door, she realized with dismay that there was not some _ thing _ left inside but some _ one. _

"Oh!" The woman gasped, clutching at her chest as a strange girl entered her ride. "Who are you?"

"I'm…" Phoebe thought quickly. "... his daughter… his mistress's daughter."

The woman looked doubtful, and hearing Crowley yelling outside she tutted and shook her head.

"Aren't you  _ his _ daughter?" She asked, indicating Crowley with a jerk of her head.

"He only thinks I am," Phoebe sighed sadly. "My mother had a lot of lovers, all rich men… I'm certain you know why… but the diseases took her and the last thing she told me is who my real father is. I just wanted one look at him, that's all."

"You… you aren't serious," the woman said, still doubtful but less so.

"Did he give you that brooch?" Phoebe gasped. "My mother had one just like it!"

Somehow that seemed to seal the deal for the poor woman, who made a scandalized noise and ripped the brooch from her chest.

  
  


"And I'll never get over the loss of… oh look there she is, false alarm," Crowley said, grabbing Phoebe as she ran by and turning to make their escape.

"What?" Their mark spluttered, sensing mischief. "Just a moment! Get back here!"

From her perch on Crowley's shoulder, Phoebe made a face at the man and his driver.

"Well?" Crowley asked, once they were in the clear. 

"Well, his wife was very upset to meet his secret love child," Phoebe said. 

"Nice one!" Crowley said proudly, ruffling her hair again despite the little hands that quickly started slapping his away. 

"She was so upset that she gave me these!" Phoebe fumbled about in her pockets for a moment, before pulling out two slips of paper. "They were supposed to go see a play tonight, but…"

"Well, then I guess we're seeing a play tonight," Crowley chuckled. 

  
  


The play turned out to be a good time, though Phoebe was much more interested than Crowley was. Once he told her he'd seen the original performance hundreds of years ago she pestered him with questions that he was happy to answer. 

What could he say? She always asked the best questions.

  
  


"What about that one?"

Crowley followed Phoebe's pointing finger towards the indicated star. They were laying back in a field of grass, looking at the night sky.

"Oh, actually, I made that one," Crowley said softly.

"You did?" Phoebe asked in amazement. "Can we go see it?"

"Nah, not enough air for tiny human lungs."

"Even if I hold my breath?"

"It's too cold too, it's going to be some time before your lot gets up there."

Phoebe sighed in disappointment, and Crowley felt a twinge of sympathy, and did some sighing himself.

"Well, I can't take you that high, but…" he stood, spreading his wings.

"You mean it?" Phoebe jumped up, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Well, twelve is almost thirteen and thirteen is basically sixteen so," he said with a chuckle.

Phoebe almost knocked the demon over with a hug, Crowley had to throw out his wings to balance himself.

"You have to hold on tight, okay?" He said, lifting her up and waiting for her to put her arms around his neck. "And no dropping things on people's heads, not tonight anyway."

Phoebe giggled, and then her laughter faded to quiet wonder as Crowley raised his wings and lifted them into the air.

He took them as high as he felt comfortable taking a being without wings of her own, unable to keep himself from smiling when she gasped and gave a wide grin.

"Can we go through a cloud?" She asked.

"Clouds are wet and gross," Crowley said, wrinkling his nose.

"But can we?"

"Fine, it's your birthday. You wanna spend it wet and cold that's on you."

Phoebe cheered, and started pointing out different things she could see from this height and asking Crowley to do aerial tricks (he only did some).

"Hey, papa?"

"Hm?"

Phoebe turned her attention from the world down below back to Crowley. The wind was whipping her curls around, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. 

"I'm glad you stole me," she said.

Crowley had to look away a moment, huffing with annoyance at how happy he was.

"Well…" he said. "Don't make a big deal out of it. You were just small enough to be easy to sneak out, I was being evil. Demon stuff. That's all."

"Yeah, I love you too," Phoebe laughed. 

"Tch. Brat."

"Old man."

"Pain in the neck."

"Ass."

"Hey, where did you learn that word?"

"From you!"


End file.
